“Less than five minutes away,” Roan shouted down.
There was about thirty more feet this bus could slide before crashing into the riverbed below. If that happened the men inside could be crushed or could drown to death.
Loose soil slid down the hill toward him as Santiago tried to rouse Evans. When the younger man remained unconscious, Santiago lifted him and carried him up the embankment.
“What’s the condition of Cutter and the detainees?” Roan asked as she pulled the mechanical wench from the front of her cruiser.
“Couldn’t see through the busted-up windshield because of the smoke. I didn’t want to climb into or on top of the bus to get through a window without some stabilization.”
Roan worked to getting the hook locked around the rear bumper, and he sprayed the engine with the fire extinguisher. When she was back in the cruiser, he heard the additional sirens. The accident happened closer to the town of Meadow Glen than Shrouded Lake, so it was likely their emergency personnel.
“Keep the line tight, but don’t pull until I give the go-ahead. See if whoever’s coming can get that back door opened enough to pass people through.”
“Roger that.”
“Cutter, you all right in there?” he called out.
“Let’s assume he’s not,” Santiago muttered when only silence met him. There should be three other men inside, yet no responses.
With the protection of his insulated gloves, he gripped a section of the broken windshield, braced against the bent hood and partially exposed engine and pulled until it separated from the frame.
Crawling through the space, he dropped down and squatted on the barred windows. The transport bus had enough seating for twenty prisoners, including a seat in front of the cage for one deputy and another at the rear for the other. Cutter usually took the front position because he liked to see what was coming.
The entry door to the bus was closed, and on the same side, the middle of the bus was buckled inward. It had been hit by something large.
Glass crunched beneath Santiago’s feet, and he paused and tensed as the bus
slid a few inches.
“Cutter’s unconscious,” he radioed to Roan. Cutter’s right arm was bent at an odd angle. Santi knelt down and pressed a finger against Cutter’s neck. His pulse was strong.
“Help’s here League, they’re helping secure the bus so it won’t slide again. I found the driver, busted up bad. He must’ve gone through the windshield and tried to crawl up the hill.”
Santi got Cutter out first, laying him a few feet away as two EMTs were coming down the hill.
Next was Garland Porter. It took Santiago and a deputy from Meadow Glen to get his big ass out. Toward the back of the bus, Tommy Lewellen was missing, and Eddy Porter was dead. A bullet in his head.
“Son of a bitch.”
Thank goodness he’d had the foresight to get Dalton in a safe house, or he’d likely be dead as well. If Vince Lewellyn hadn’t been shot during the raid and hospitalized at Grace Memorial, he’d likely be dead too. Shit.
“Roan, have Derry go to Grace Memorial Hospital as security for Vince Lewellen. Tommy’s missing and Eddy’s been shot. Cordon off the area, we’ve got ourselves another murder.”
Before this was a search and rescue, now it was a homicide, and they had to preserve as much evidence as possible.
Santiago, Roan, and the officer from Meadow Glen now knew it was a planned attack. The dead body ruled out it being a hit-and-run, which the officer theorized when he arrived on scene. But the men who’d set up a lucrative drug ring were the only ones confirmed dead and missing. Someone didn’t want them making that court appearance. Either someone wanted both Eddy and Tommy dead and Tommy got away, or Tommy was in on the ambush and murder, escaping with whoever rammed into the transport bus.
Santiago turned to the officer from Meadow Glen. “We’ll get more detailed statements from everybody after they’ve gotten medical treatment.”
The officer nodded before leaving. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
“Evan, you and Cutter, in the ambulances. No discussion. I’ll check in with you both when I get back to town. And ride with Garland Porter instead of Cutter. See what he remembers if he wakes up before you get to the hospital.”
“Yes, Sheriff,” Evans said.
Cutter was already on a stretcher arguing with the EMT who was trying to secure his broken arm.
Santiago rolled his eyes and was happy to see the two ambulances head down the road, with his men alive.
